


Still Life

by foggynite



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: During Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: “You think Arslan is the only reason I do this? For the love of Misra, how can you be so blind?”
Relationships: Daryun/Narsus (Heroic Legend of Arslan)
Kudos: 4





	Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime between 2002 and 2005.

Narsus doesn’t bother looking up when he hears the light footsteps approaching his easel. There’s paint on the canvas that he has to work with before it dries, and really, Daryun needs to do something about his sheath, because it squeaks softly with each step.

The silence stretches on. He tries to ignore the steady breathing behind him, but Daryun must have just come from the baths. A trace of myrrh teases his nose, a light spicy musk that’s mixed with Daryun’s own unique scent. He can feel the dark-haired man’s eyes on him, the weight of his gaze, unconcerned that he has invaded the artist’s sanctuary. It’s maddening, and Narsus wants to stab Daryun with his palette knife.

“I thought you were plotting,” Daryun says mildly once the tension in Narsus’ shoulders has gathered to an impressive knot.

He adjusts his grip on the brush, and responds in a casual tone. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Hm. You have a point.” The knight shifts, appearing in Narsus’ periphery, and studies the painting. “I suppose something of this quality takes little concentration…”

“Was there a point to your visit, you ignorant ruffian?” He returns to painting with an offended sniff.

Daryun shrugs, armor creaking. “Our prince was unable to locate you. He seemed quite concerned, and I volunteered to allay his anxiety.”

“I’m perfectly well, thank you. You may inform him his fears are unfounded.” He hopes the air of dismissal he’s exuding will offend the knight enough to drive him off. Instead, he’s surprised when Daryun continues to loom over his shoulder.

“He’s come to depend upon you to a vast extent,” the other man comments, seemingly off hand. “But he’s learned much from you, as I had hoped. It must be flattering to have such an earnest student.”

Narsus doesn’t deign to respond. The way Daryun had manipulated him into joining the cause still plagues the strategist, as much as it warms him that the knight continues to have faith in his abilities.

“Arslan holds you dear to his heart,” Daryun muses softly, voice filled with speculation and knowledge. He’s standing near enough that Narsus need not strain his hearing. “I know the position he promised means little to you, if it is given by one who you do not respect. I was honestly surprised when you accepted his plea, with him being little informed on your works. But I can see why, now, when I watch the two of you together. You must care for the Prince a great deal, to be so willing.”

The words strike true, and Narsus carefully controls his breathing. There is an insinuation there, though, that burns. An old bitterness rises in his chest, and his tongue betrays him.

“You think Arslan is the only reason I do this? For the love of Misra, how can you be so blind?”

He wants to take the words back as soon as they escape, so instead he focuses on his brush strokes. His face is burning with mortification.

Daryun does not immediately respond, leaning over him until the edges of his cloak sweep teasingly across Narsus’ back. The artist manages not to shiver, holding his brush steady. Then the knight presses a light kiss to the nape of his neck.

Narsus quickly jerks the brush away from the canvas before it can ruin hours of hard work. Clutching his palette and wielding the brush threateningly, he turns his head to glare at the smirking knight.

“I see more than you think,” Daryun says quietly, seriously, before Narsus can release a scathing indictment.

The brush slowly sinks down, forgotten as he stares at the other man. Daryun’s serious eyes are watching him carefully. Narsus blinks, opening his mouth to speak, yet unable to formulate a response.

The knight smiles suddenly, perhaps having seen something Narsus is unaware of sharing. Or perhaps he has finally figured something out, after all this time. Either way, he doesn’t hesitate to claim Narsus’ slack lips, pressing forward until Narsus begins to press back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

His palette slips to the floor unheeded as the artist reaches up with a paint-covered hand to grip Daryun’s cloak. The knight doesn’t seem to care that his uniform now has a streak of green across it. They’re panting when they finally break apart.

Daryun’s eyes are bright and the knight rests his forehead on Narsus’, whispering, “I see you.”

For once, Narsus is disarmed.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr


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